by Dragon Lance
Kaz froze momentarily, feeling an awful sense of displacement. This was beginning to sound too much like his own life, only that time it was the minotaur who had been a prisoner of the goblins. Huma had risked his own life to save his, and Kaz knew he could do no less now.
The memory fled as footsteps warned him of a sentry.
The ugly, squat green creature was dragging a long, slightly bent spear. He was fat, even for a goblin, and probably had been stuck with sentry duty because he was at the bottom of the ranks. He looked ready to take a nap. Kaz began to rise slowly, only too happy to help him on his way.
Obligingly, the goblin sat down on a rock and, with a dark look toward the direction of the camp, began to chew on a piece of old meat, probably from the slaughtered horse. So indifferent to his duty was the lazy creature that Kaz was able to sneak up from behind and, with the flat of his axe, lay him low with one blow. The axe struck with a hard thud, and the goblin’s head snapped forward, burying his six or so chins into his fat chest. The minotaur leaned over and checked the still form, grunting in mild surprise that the blow had broken the creature’s neck, killing him instantly. Kaz had no qualms about it. Under the same circumstances, the goblin would have run him through without hesitation.
The others were still getting their amusement out of the leader’s question-and-answer session with the prisoner. So far, Kaz had heard nothing from the prisoner, and it was possible that the goblin chief had already pushed his prey over the limit. The minotaur’s grip on the axe handle tightened until his knuckles turned white.
Cautiously Kaz circled around the general area of the camp, hoping that he would not crawl right into the scabby arms of another overly zealous guard. But knowing the race as he did, he suspected there would be only one or two at most.
Kaz need not have worried, for the second sentry was no more diligent than the first; this one was asleep. Kaz debated using the axe, but instead he punched him in the jaw. With a surprised but stifled grunt, the goblin rolled over with his face buried in the parched soil. Kaz felt an odd stirring of satisfaction. It was like paying one of his own captors back.
Now came the difficult part. He hazarded a guess, based on the mocking voices, that there were five more. There might be a way to separate them, but would it be too much of a risk?
His decision was made for him.
“I told you not to do that, Skullcracker! You so jumpy, go out and take Mule’s place on guard!”
“But, Krynge …”
“Get going!”
Kaz quietly cursed several gods. He could make out a brutish figure slowly picking his way toward the spot where the minotaur had slain the first guard. Judging by the goblin’s turtlelike speed, Kaz had a few minutes, but no more. Right now, the goblins were relaxed, off guard. …
Off guard?
There might have been better ways, and had the situation been different, he might have thought of a better plan. Still, in his opinion, it was always the simple plan that was best.
Kaz continued on in the same direction. The path would take him farther around the camp and almost opposite where the first guard had been killed. In one thing, the minotaur had been correct; the goblins, not really expecting any trouble, had posted only two guards. Had there been a third, there might have been more trouble.
His movements brought him very, very near the goblins themselves. He also managed to get his first glimpse of the prisoner.
The prisoner was, of course, a Knight of Solamnia. He was staked to the ground, and some of his armor had been torn away and tossed to one side, but there was no doubting that he was a knight. His condition was questionable. Kaz tightened his grip on the axe and raised himself up into a crouch.
“Krynge!” Skullcracker shouted from the opposite side of the camp.
The five goblins – Kaz cursed his miscount – turned as one. The leader, Krynge, a bulky goblin carrying a barbed spear, took a few steps in the direction the other had gone. The rest began to follow.
Kaz burst from his hiding place. He gave no war cry, merely shouting “Goblins!” just as he reached the first of them.
His opponent had only enough time to stare goggle-eyed before the minotaur’s axe sliced through his sword arm. The creature shrieked and dropped to his knees in a bizarre attempt to catch the falling limb. Kaz turned from him and took on the next. This one was slightly better prepared and met him with a heavy club. Unfortunately for the goblin, his eagerness proved a great mistake, and Kaz brought the axe down into his chest, splitting him open. His adversary fell backward, dead before he touched the ground.
Now the minotaur found himself confronting three goblins, one of whom had a spear.
Krynge poked at Kaz with his spear. The other two goblins carried different weapons. Reach was on the side of Kaz, however.
The lead goblin seemed to realize this, for he waved at the other two, indicating that they should encircle their attacker.
The one called Skullcracker appeared in the distance. Kaz knew that he would not survive four-against-one, especially since Skullcracker carried an axe almost as large as his. The minotaur glanced around. The weak point in the trio before him was the goblin who carried the club. This one seemed to be more hesitant.
Kaz feinted toward Krynge, who stumbled back a few steps. The other two moved in, thinking to take advantage of his nearness, but Kaz twisted out of the reach of the sword and turned the downward arc of his swing into an attack to his opponent’s left side. Completely caught by surprise, the goblin could only manage a feeble defense with his club and was felled by a slice that almost cut him in two.
However, Kaz had underestimated the leader, Krynge. After backing up, the goblin immediately moved in again. Before the minotaur could dodge, the tip of the barbed spear caught him in the shoulder. The upper barbs hooked his flesh, and for a brief moment, Kaz was certain his arm was going to be pulled off. His hold on the dwarven battle-axe nearly slipped, but he knew that would be the death of him. Ignoring the agony, he rolled to his left.
The chieftain tore the spear away, taking a good portion of the minotaur’s shoulder with it. By now, Skullcracker was near enough to be a threat, and Kaz surmised that his odds had gotten no better and perhaps worse. The pain of the wound coursed through his entire body. But he gritted his teeth and managed to hold the goblins off with a mad swing that nearly knocked the axe from Skullcracker’s hands.
It was the spear that was proving the stumbling block. Kaz had a reach advantage over the other two attackers, but Krynge’s spear was at least as long as the minotaur, and the goblin knew how to wield it. Even if the chieftain did not make a direct strike, the barbs on that weapon would still catch and tear. …
They were slowly forcing him back, and the pain in his shoulder was breaking his concentration. The goblin with the sword almost got under his guard, but a quick twist of the axe sent him scurrying back. Unfortunately, Kaz lost more ground. Eventually, he knew, they would run him into a tree and ring him tightly until he tired. It was what he would have done in their position.
With time running out, Kaz suddenly raised the gleaming battle-axe over his head and, with a Solamnic war cry that startled his foes, charged forward.
The goblins with the axe and the sword instinctively stepped back, fully aware that in both strength and reach they were at a disadvantage. Krynge, however, moved to meet Kaz, secure in the belief that his spear would enable him to blunt the mad assault. He would have been correct if, as he assumed, Kaz was trying to strike him.
The axe came down in a long arc. One edge hooked on the barbs of the spear. Krynge realized what was happening, but it was too late. Summoning strength that no goblin could hope to match, the minotaur used his weapon to rip the spear from the hapless goblin’s claws. The spear went clattering to the ground behind Kaz.
Krynge, now unarmed, did the intelligent thing and backed away, desperately seeking some other weapon. The goblin with the sword, knowing full well the inevitable outcome of a duel
with a minotaur – sword against an expertly wielded axe – turned and fled. Krynge shouted something venomous at his retreating form, then decided to follow. Skullcracker, out of either sheer stubbornness or madness, lunged at Kaz. His reach was shorter than the minotaur’s, and he swung wildly. While the goblin was still following through with his attack, Kaz swung at his unprotected torso.
Skullcracker spun around once from the momentum of his own swing and then collapsed on the soil, a deep hole in his chest releasing his life’s fluids.
Kaz wiped the axe blades clean and, confident that neither of the two survivors would return to bother him, turned his attention to the prisoner.
Huma stared back at him.
The minotaur blinked and found himself meeting the worn gaze of a face that now looked nothing like his legendary comrade. This one was older, in years if not experience, with a slightly rounded nose and one of the great mustaches common among the knighthood. His hair was light and not quite blond, something that might change if the dirt and blood were washed out of it.
The man’s lips were cracked, and Kaz knew that he had not had a drop of water to drink for some time. He undid his water sack and brought it to the mouth of the knight. Despite a look of distrust that flashed over the human’s features, the knight drank steadily.
Kaz pulled a knife from his belt and freed the knight’s hands and feet.
“I … will tell … nothing, monster!” the man gasped.
Kaz snorted. “You have nothing to worry about from me, Knight of Solamnia. I am no friend of goblins, as you can plainly see. I follow Paladine and Kiri-Jolith, not Sargas or his dark mistress.”
The man’s eyes revealed that he was not quite convinced, but he understood that, at least in Kaz’s hands, he would be treated better.
The knight could barely move at the moment. Kneeling, Kaz did what he could to make him more comfortable. From his cursory examination, he saw that there were bruises aplenty, and the armor on the human’s right leg looked bent and twisted, indicating a broken leg. He wished the healer, Tesela, was accompanying him still.
As he did his best to soothe and bind the injuries, Kaz tried to convince the knight of his safety.
“I am called Kaz. You are a Knight of the Crown, I see.” He pointed at the battered remains of the human’s helmet and breastplate. There were odd marks, like those made by giant talons, across the breastplate. “You are also from an outpost near southern Ergoth, I see. I briefly knew someone from another outpost in Ergoth itself. Buoron?”
The knight shook his head carefully. Kaz shrugged. Buoron had been a good knight, in some ways like Huma, who had died in the first battle utilizing the Dragonlances. The minotaur had known Buoron only briefly but had found him trustworthy and brave.
Kaz shifted, aware that his new companion was speaking. The man’s voice was a hoarse whisper. “Darius. My name is Darius. You said … Kaz?”
“I did.”
Darius pointed a feeble finger at the minotaur. “You are … the one wanted by … the Grand Master.”
The minotaur laughed bitterly. “And do you plan to capture me for him?”
The knight shook his head weakly from side to side. “Not … after what … we have heard. All commands are … suspect.”
“Suspect?”
“We were coming to … present our grievances. Our first messenger … did not return. His name appeared on a … proclamation. The same as you.”
“Indeed. And now your companions have been conveniently massacred by goblins.” Kaz shook his head. “I’ve come not to believe in coincidence.”
Darius somehow succeeded in looking even more pale than before. “All dead?”
The minotaur nodded. “I believe so. I’m sorry, human. I have counted some good knights among my friends in the past. …”
“All dead …” The injured knight was babbling. He tried to rise.
Kaz held him down. “You’ll kill yourself if you don’t rest! I’m no healer, knight, and your injuries are going to be a part of you for some time, so relax!”
Even well, Darius would have been no match for Kaz. He settled back down, and the minotaur quickly checked him over again. It was always difficult to tell. There might be internal damage. …
“It killed them all,” the knight whispered, half-unconscious due to the strain of his own outburst.
“What?” Kaz froze. He looked at Darius, but the knight was nearly asleep. “What do you mean, ‘it’? The goblins did this, didn’t they?”
The knight’s eyes flickered open, but they looked beyond the minotaur. “Not the … the goblins. They found me … after it threw me. I was lucky; it … it seemed anxious to leave. Paladine! Its skin was as hard as stone! The wings! They —”
“Wings?” Kaz shivered, recalling the thing that had flown over his head one night. He had been that close to it! “What sort of beast was it?”
Darius succeeded in focusing on his benefactor. “Not a beast … not exactly. The lords of the earth. The children of light and darkness.”
The litany was familiar to Kaz, something that he had heard countless times during his life. It was how some ancient bard had described … No!
“You can’t be saying” — Kaz forced the words out — “a dragon?”
Darius grimaced as pain shot through him. “A dragon, minotaur – or something akin to a dragon! Something with huge claws, sky-encompassing wings, and jaws big enough to swallow a whole man!” The knight’s face clouded over. “But … but it left their bodies … what it hadn’t torn apart. I don’t understand. It was and it wasn’t a dragon.”
Chapter 8
Feeling the lancing pain in shoulder, Kaz lifted the gruesome burden he was carrying. With the utmost care, he placed the body of the last of Darius’s dead comrades in the makeshift funeral pyre. The injured knight watched from a distance, his back against a gnarled tree. Darius lacked any strength for the task he kept insisting must be done. It was unthinkable to leave the bodies of so many brave men to scavengers like the carrion crows or, worse, goblins. Kaz had used up an entire day for this business, but he knew that Darius would not have moved on without giving his comrades a proper burial, even if he could.
There had been no further signs of the goblins. Kaz doubted they would be back, but he kept careful watch nonetheless.
The knight, more coherent than yesterday, still insisted that his band had been attacked by a dragon or something very similar. Kaz could not get the thought out of his mind. Everyone knew that all the dragons had disappeared.
“Your wound needs binding again, Kaz,” the knight pointed out. “You don’t want dust getting into the wound.”
Grunting, Kaz squatted down next to his companion and let Darius do what he could for the binding. It was the only thing the knight could do in his present condition, and the minotaur knew that he desperately wanted to be useful.
“I thank you.”
Kaz grunted. “I doubt I would’ve left your companions’ bodies after all. I would’ve never forgiven myself, I think.”
Though it was past noon, as well as one could tell in the overcast sky, there was a chill in the air uncommon for this time of year. The fire was to prove doubly useful. The knight needed the warmth, and Kaz needed something with which to light the pyre.
The minotaur rose and reached for the dry branch he had set aside for this purpose.
“Are there any words you wish to say?” he asked as he lit the branch.
Darius shook his head. “I said what needed to be said as you gathered the dead.”
Kaz nodded and grimly stepped toward the pyre.
*
It started to rain just at the point when it became apparent that the fire had served its purpose. Kaz had calculated that the fire would burn itself out, but the rain allowed him to forego keeping an eye on it. By the time the last flame had perished, the rain had ceased.
“Praise be to Paladine,” a somewhat damp Darius said quietly. He held out his hand to Kaz, a
n indication that he wanted to stand, and the minotaur helped him to his feet. “We should go now,” the knight said.
“Don’t you think we should wait until tomorrow? The rest can only help you.”
A look of pain crossed the knight’s pale face. “I fear that I have some wounds that only a cleric of Paladine or Mishakal can cure properly. I don’t know about the latter, but Vingaard Keep’s lords have always included the former.”
Kaz disliked the thought of depending on anyone in Vingaard Keep for such aid, but he could not think of any better plan. Perhaps they would come across another cleric of Mishakal on their way to the stronghold of the knighthood. There certainly had to be some call for clerics in this desolate region. Someone had to be helping the villagers if the keep was not.
“We don’t know what goes on at the keep now.”
“But we will,” Darius said with the imperious tone that Kaz recalled as being typical of many knights. Even Huma had adopted it now and then. It was the expression of someone who believes his cause is just and, therefore, one that will prevail.
With the crude, wooden staff that Kaz had made for him in one hand, the knight leaned against the minotaur. Kaz put an arm around his companion, and in this way, they started their journey together. It was awkward going, but they made progress.
The first village that Kaz had seen in some time peeked over the horizon near evening. Neither the minotaur nor the knight were familiar with this region, though both knew that Vingaard could only be two or three days ahead. Whether or not they should continue on to the village this very evening was a question.
Darius wanted to avoid the village entirely. He reminded Kaz that they were well within the range of Vingaard’s patrols, and that there was still a bounty on the minotaur. “One sword stroke and you will never live to tell your side.”
“I don’t think I have to remind you, Darius of the Crown, that you are badly injured. We can feel fortunate that you haven’t collapsed by now.”
“I will do no such thing.”
